Do Something
by wregular
Summary: Mordecai tries to move on with his life, giving Rigby a lot to think about with his.


Mordecai knew before he even opened the door what he'd find on the other side. The lack of light seeping through underneath was one giveaway; Rigby's thunderous snoring was the more obvious one.

"Dude!" he shouted as he pushed through into the bedroom. "I've been waiting for thirty minutes now! It's time to go!"

"Meeeuuuurggghh," groaned Rigby from the 'comfort' of his trampoline. "Don't wanna. Too comfy. Rigby sleep now."

Mordecai, however, was already throwing open the curtains. "No! You promised you'd drive me to college, so get up!"

"Why can't Mordecai drive self," murmured Rigby. "Augh!" he cried, as Mordecai whipped the grey 'bed'sheet off his makeshift nest.

"I told you last night: because there's nowhere in the cart to put my portfolio, and I need to hold onto it. If it blows away, I'm screwed."

"You're already screwed, coz it already blows," said Rigby, before emitting a sharp yelp of pain as Mordecai punched him in the arm.

"Not funny, dude. I'll be in the cart. If you're not there in five minutes, then..." he trailed off, and stormed downstairs.

Rigby traipsed down not long after him, muttering to himself as he hastily prepared a toaster waffle and grabbed a carton of chocolate milk.

"What's with him, anyway? Art school's for dorks. So I guess he'll fit right in."

* * *

Mordecai was sitting in the cart with his arms folded, cradling his art portfolio, as Rigby breezed through the front door and down the stairs. It took all the blue jay's effort to keep quiet and avoid eye contact as Rigby fired up the engine, toaster waffle held firmly in his mouth. Mordecai had his pissed-off face on, but the raccoon hadn't even noticed.

As they crossed the bridge and headed through the park gate, Rigby finished his waffle. Despite his anger, Mordecai was silently impressed as he watched, sideways, as Rigby ate the waffle without even using his hands. That, he reluctantly admitted to himself, took real dedication to the art of breakfast.

"So... arcade after?" said Rigby, slurping down the chocolate milk through a straw.

"Forget it!" shouted Mordecai, loudly as he could manage. "I'm pissed off! If I'm late for this interview..."

"It's not 'til eleven!" replied Rigby. "You've got bigger things to worry about. Like that tie, for instance."

Mordecai looked down at his clip-on tie, currently sitting just above his portfolio. It had his old college's logo on it. He ripped it off and threw it to the side of the road as the cart headed downtown.

"Augh! This is the worst morning ever! I'm so nervous, and you're just..."

"I'm just what? Driving you to your stupid art-erview? Some thanks I get." Rigby finished his milk and placed the carton on the seat next to him. He leaned back and started to whistle.

"Dude! Move that milk! If it spills on my portfolio, I..."

"Jeez, Mordecry! It's empty anyway!" Rigby picked up the milk and without turning around tossed it onto the seats behind them, where it landed with a little splash. "OK... _almost_ empty. Besides, I bet it'd make those paintings of yours look better. S'not like they can get any worse." He laughed at his own joke.

"Everything's just a game to you, isn't it?" muttered Mordecai.

"Well, it _would _be if _some_one had played Dig Champs with me last night like we planned..."

They passed the next few minutes in silence, Rigby messing with the radio until he found the holy grail - non-stop classic rock - and Mordecai stewing silently over his irresponsible friend and his own place in the universe.

"I don't have time for Dig Champs," he said at last, as they pulled onto the college campus. "I want to go back to art school. I want to be somebody. I don't want to be some loser sitting around playing video games and working at the park. Do you even know what it's like, dropping out of college? It's the most pathetic thing I can think of."

Rigby's cheeks reddened. Mordecai didn't notice.

"I'm just sick of it. Not going anywhere, not doing anything. I don't want to be some dropout loser whose best days were in high school. Someone with nothing to point to and say, 'hey, look, I achieved that.'"

Rigby began to grip the steering wheel, with both hands, tighter and tighter until his knuckles turned white.

"Margaret's at a good school doing something she loves, and it's like: why not me? Maybe if I'd done this earlier I would be with someone I like instead of sitting around at the house eating PB&J and watching terrible movies like a big kid."

Rigby bit into his bottom lip until there was a coppery taste on the tip of his tongue. He braked, gently, outside the art department at the local community college.

Mordecai sighed. "OK. _Finally._ I feel better now. Just gotta get through this interview, that's all, then I can move on with my life. I'll be back in an hour."

Without looking back at his friend, he trooped up the stairs and into the building. Rigby sat outside, hands still locked to the steering wheel, and tried to regulate his breathing.

Eventually he reached into the glovebox and pulled out a piece of paper.

RIGBY'S TO-DO LIST

Stay Cool

Don't Ever Change

Have A Great Summer

With his other hand, he pulled out a pen and quickly scrawled a fourth item at the end.

Show Mordecai Not A Loser

And then a fifth.

Don't Be A Loser

With another hour to go until his friend came back, he decided to go for a walk around campus. Maybe check out the admissions office.

But only after checking out the cafeteria.

Maybe getting up early wouldn't be such a bad idea after all.


End file.
